


Sleeping Dead

by brodylover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Season gr8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean sleeps all Cas can see is the thousands of dead versions from Heaven</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Dead

He used to think that Dean was beautiful like this, lying on his stomach, all that anger and fear and false machismo tucked away as he slept. Now, he could hardly even look. Dean’s breathing was too slow, he wasn’t moving enough, his eyes were closed, not bright and alive. He looked dead, like one of those soulless things he had killed over and over again in Heaven. 

He sat there in the darkness, watching over Dean, like he said he would do. He had already checked up on Sam, reduced the swelling in his throat, repaired the linings in his lungs, removed the pain that the trials were placing on him. He did what was asked of him. Now though, it was Dean’s turn to be watched over and he could hardly do it.

He folded his hands over his eyes and felt a wetness there, not of blood but of something else thick and warm. He made a little strangled sound at it, unable to contain the memories he had of Dean dying, over and over again, his blade deep in his chest. 

“Cas?” Dean sounded groggy. He always was good at hearing things, needing to be in case of someone sneaking up on him. That tiny noise from the angel had been more than enough to wake him. “What’s going on?”

He turned on the light beside his bed and Cas stiffened, wiping away the remnants of wetness from his eyes. He was an angel, he wasn’t supposed to feel anything, nevertheless sorrow and fear. 

“Cas, you okay?” he could hear the fear in Dean’s voice. 

“I’m fine.” he lied, using Dean’s favorite emotion.

Dean was sitting up now, reaching out and putting a hand on Cas’ knee. It was one of the most intimate touches that the angel had experienced and he almost shied away from it.

“You’re not, Cas. That’s my line, I can tell. What’s going on?”

“I was watching over you.”

“Yeah, I know. Creepy. But that’s not what I’m asking.”

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Dean’s touch became a grip. He wasn’t able to leave, not able to vanish or even really stand. Dean wouldn’t allow him. 

“You should. You’re family, Cas, and with us is where you belong. If you think you can leave without telling me why your eyes are all red you’ve got another thing coming.”

Cas sighed, his shoulders slumped, he caved in. It was all obscenely human. 

“When I… When I was bad, when Naomi had me in her control she…” Cas couldn’t explain it, how could he? He didnt understand it all himself, “She created you. Thousands of you. She made me kill you, over and over again.”

Dean swallowed, eyes more worried than they had been in a long time. 

“She made me do it until I no longer felt such a… urgent need to protect you, until I could kill you with no hesitation.”

“But you hesitated. You couldnt kill me when the cards fell.” Dean reminded.

“It doesn’t matter.” Cas found the end of his coat belt and started to wring it between his fingers, “When I see you asleep. It’s all I can see. All of the versions of you I’ve killed.”

His eyes were wet again and he brushed at them with the back of his hand. Dean’s fingers left his knee though, took his hand and pulled it away from his face. His lips were soft and warm and he pecked at the water droplets at the forefront of Cas’s eyes. That was far more intimate than any touch Cas had had. 

“It’s okay.” Dean’s voice was as soft and warm as his lips, “You’re here. You’re out. You’re okay.”

Cas wanted it to be true, his fingers knotted in his belt. He couldnt stop them now and the tears poured down his face. Dean stopped trying to kiss them away, there were too many, and instead he knelt before the angel and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him tight against his chest. Cas ducked his head into Dean’s neck and tried to apologies for soaking his thin t-shirt with his tears. 

Dean just patted his back, “Go on, get it all out, but that’s it, okay? No more tears after this. You’re an angel of the lord, not some prepubescent school girl.”

This was okay. This Dean was alive. This Dean was his.

He clung to him harder.


End file.
